


first position, the mood is set

by hiswittlehands



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blow Jobs, M/M, Shameless Smut, especially not around louis, harry should not be allowed to wear short shorts, how is there not a thigh fucking tag already or am i just blind????, if you haven't go look it up, look it up RIGHT NOW, seriously did you see him in that uniform?, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3943495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiswittlehands/pseuds/hiswittlehands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis bites down on his lip. "You...god, they look so good on you. Shows off your arse and your...your thighs, Haz." He runs his hand along the skin there then, relishing how soft and pliant it is even with all the muscle. "They shouldn't have even let you play. Should, should have sent you straight home for...fuck, indecency or breaking the dress code or summat."</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or, I literally have no idea what the fuck I just wrote but it involves dodgeball, short shorts, and thigh fucking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	first position, the mood is set

**Author's Note:**

> We all know of the majestic beauty that was the boys' dodgeball skit with James Corden on The Late Late Show. So there I was merrily scrolling my timeline on twitter when my friend tweeted "I'm gonna make a bet and say the first fic to come out of this is a thigh fucking one." And I innocently replied to add "In the locker room after a dodgeball tournament." And somehow, I was coerced into writing...this.
> 
> I have no idea if it's actually the first fic to have come from this; given the fandom, I doubt it. But here it is anyways. I basically rambled this off at arse o'clock in the morning in four hours which is not how my writing generally goes, so if it's absolute shit or you find a typo or other mistake, I apologize with utmost sincerity.
> 
> The title is a combination of Kehlani's "First Position" and lyrics from Rihanna's "Skin." Thanks to my friend Shaheer for suggesting Kehlani.
> 
> So, Chelsea and Jordan...this one's for you.

It all comes down to this very moment.

Louis lays on the cold, hard floor of the gymnasium, his feet resting against the wall and his entire body poised, waiting for the sound of the whistle. Liam's on his left, expression stoic, focused. Trust Payno to take fucking _dodgeball_ of all things seriously. To Liam's left are Niall and then Calvin, Zayn, Stan, Jeff and Deo.

And to Louis' right, well, there's Harry.

Harry, who's wearing a headband to try and control the actual mane of hair he's been growing for the past year. Harry, whose biceps are flexing as he prepares for the mad dash to the balls. Harry, who had decided it would be a perfectly good idea to wear a pair of _too short to be good for Louis' sanity_ shorts. And Christ, as if the shorts weren't enough already, they barely come down to mid-thigh on the tall, lanky boy...and Harry's thighs are on whole new level of delicious and distracting and-

 _Fuck_.

Louis missed the whistle. Everyone else is already to their feet and running before Louis has even left the floor.

"Tomlinson!" Chelsea, the assistant Phys Ed teacher, shouts. "Get in there!"

He's far too late to have a hope of getting a ball off the centre line, but Harry's managed at least three—stupid gigantic hands, he has—and tosses one to Louis as he run backwards to touch the wall.

"Thanks!" Louis calls out at the same time as he dodges a ball being thrown by someone on the opposing team.

Harry smiles and then hurls a ball across the gymnasium and Louis can't help but admire the view. It nearly costs him a ball to the groin, too, but he manages to swerve at the last second. Thankfully.

 _Get your head in the game, Tommo_ , he tells himself before running up closer to the centre and lugging a ball at some random bloke. The ball clocks him square in the shoulder and he flips Louis the bird as he makes his way to the sidelines. Louis laughs and Niall comes up and gives him a congratulatory clap on the back.

Louis ducks to avoid another incoming ball and then catches one that comes flying at him seconds later. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a girl from the other team—Jordan, he thinks her name is, she's in his Biology class—throw a ball that finds a target smack in the middle of Zayn's face. There's an audible gasp in the crowd as Zayn leaves the floor, eyes wide and using both hands to massage his nose.

Shortly after Liam is knocked out of the game as well by a hit to his leg, followed quickly by Calvin who gets a ball to his forearm. Louis' next throw has dismal results, but he may have thrown off his aim because he was watching Harry do a rather commendable pirouette to escape being hit.

The game continues, each team claiming casualties until it's come down to only Louis and Harry left for their team versus the girl, Jordan. Harry smirks at Louis and bumps the balls in his hands together against the two Louis is holding and says, "Let's end this." He's got a determined edge to his expression, and Louis needs a second to take him in: lightly tanned skin glistening with sweat, his shorts riding up, exposing even more of his thighs. He's breathing heavier, too, and—god, it honestly looks like he's just been fucked.

That's when he sees the ball connect with Harry's ass and hears a triumphant yell from the other side of the gymnasium.

Harry's face shifts from determined to pouty in an instant. He juts out his bottom lip. "Damn," he mutters as he tosses Louis the balls he'd been holding. "Take her out," he says before leaving to join the rest of their teammates on the sideline.

This is it.

It's just Louis now. Across the gym Jordan's standing confidently, ball in hand.

Louis can hear the lads cheering him on, particularly a slow, deep voice. "C'mon Lou!" Harry yells. "You've got this!"

Yeah. Yeah, Louis' got this.

He jogs up closer to the centre line, quirking his eyebrow up when he and Jordan make eye contact. The girl hurls her ball towards him, and he just avoids getting hit. He quickly recomposes himself and throws his first ball, purposely aiming low. As Jordan jumps to get out of the way Louis throws the second ball, and it hits her in the arm.

The crowd erupts in cheers and Louis grabs the balls closest to him and then raises his arms in victory. His team comes rushing out onto the floor, jumping around him and shouting. Liam grips his shoulders and shakes him lightly and Calvin ruffles his hair and then there's Harry with his arms spread wide and he hugs Louis tightly before lifting him off the ground and over his shoulder, giving him a few playful smacks on his ass.

Louis surely can't complain about that.

 

 

They make plans to go out for victory burgers and shakes, which is great and all, but Louis has slightly different plans at the moment. He purposely takes his time, even offers to help collect all the balls while the other lads rush off to shower and change. In fact, by the time Louis finally heads for the locker room, everyone else is ready to go.

Well, almost everyone.

Louis waves them off, saying he'll meet them at the diner. Luckily no one offers to wait up.

The locker room is empty and quiet, but Louis knows better. Sure enough, shortly after he's sat down on a bench, peeled off his shirt and started untying his shoelaces, he hears the sound of footsteps approaching. Louis looks up and, as expected, there's Harry standing in the doorway. He's still in uniform, and as he leans against the doorframe, the shorts ride up on his thighs.

Louis swallows, and his mouth feels suddenly dry. "You're a right shit, y'know that?" he says, but it comes out sounding very non-accusatory.

"Oh really...." Harry trails off, and he's got the biggest, dumbest smile on his face.

"Yeah," Louis manages before he's standing and walking towards Harry, grabbing the taller boy's shirt and pulling him close. Louis stands up on his tiptoes and latches their mouths together, not bothering with a few chaste kisses. No, no time for that. Not when Harry's been fucking teasing him all day, not like Harry didn't know _exactly_ what he was doing to Louis.

Harry returns the kiss eagerly, biting on Louis' bottom lip and licking into his mouth and Louis loves it. He loves how Harry's lips feel against his own, loves how Harry tastes, like apples and every other delicious, forbidden thing Louis can think of.

This isn't the first time they've kissed. This isn't the second or third or even tenth time they have. Louis lost count a while ago, but he does know that each time is always, _always_ better than the last. He loves that, that kissing Harry is always something new and exhilarating and just a hint of dangerous.

He might love that part the most.

Nobody really _knows_ about what he and Harry get up to in empty locker rooms or deserted hallways or the bathroom on the third floor that's "out of service." It's not that they go out of their way to hide it from their friends. They just, they don't really go out of their way to make it obvious. Whatever this is between them, it is what it is. And that's enough for now.

What isn't enough though, is just kissing Harry. Caught up in each other's touch, Louis hadn't noticed they'd moved, but now he finds himself pressed up against the wall of lockers. Harry's got one hand on Louis' waist, fingers digging into his skin, and the other lightly resting against the side of his face. Harry's thumb is rubbing lightly along Louis' cheek, and every so often he'll run it along the side of Louis' mouth.

Louis releases a breath, his lip quivering. God, he loves this.

Harry slides a leg between Louis' thighs and slowly, very slowly, starts to grind his hips. It's so subtle that he probably doesn't even realize he's done it. But Louis realizes, and can feel his own cock start to harden against the light friction.

"F-fuck." It comes out as a whisper.

Harry pulls back, breaking the kiss. "You alright?" he asks. His eyes are already glassy, his cheeks already flushed, his lips already red and swollen. He looks so beautiful.

Louis nods and leans forward to kiss along Harry's jawline as his hands make their way down Harry's body, running them down his chest and stomach. He pauses, gathering the fabric of Harry's shirt, pulling it up and over his head. Louis' hands return to Harry's bare skin, continuing down to the waistband of his shorts-

Oh, those shorts. Those shorts that started all of this. Louis smiles against Harry's skin. "Do you have any idea how much trouble these caused today?" he asks, snapping the waistband against Harry's hip lightly. "Do you know how hard it was for me to not attack you like this during the game?"

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Harry replies as the hand he had on Louis' hip travels down to palm at Louis' semi through his clothes.

Louis bites down on his lip. "You...god, they look so good on you. Shows off your arse and your...your _thighs_ , Haz." He runs his hand along the skin there then, relishing how soft and pliant it is even with all the muscle. "They shouldn't have even let you play. Should, should have sent you straight home for...fuck, indecency or breaking the dress code or summat."

"But then how could I have done this?" Harry asks, feigning innocence as he sinks to his knees in front of Louis. It's a very good thing they were forced to wear knee pads for the game, Louis reckons. Not much good for dodgeball, but for this? Extremely useful.

Harry undoes the drawstring on Louis' shorts with an almost devilish grin and then he pulls them down along with Louis' underwear, both pooling around Louis' ankles on the floor. Louis watches as Harry wraps his hand around the base of Louis' cock and then takes a few tentative licks along the head before taking it into his mouth.

Louis learned early on how much Harry loves giving blowjobs. He doesn't treat it like foreplay, even though that's generally all it is. Harry sucks cock like it's the last damned thing he is going to do in his life, and it's amazing. It feels amazing. And it _looks_ amazing, too, the way he hollows his cheeks and can swallow all the way down and likes to glance up at Louis while he does it. It's arguably the dirtiest, hottest thing Louis has ever seen (which is saying something, because Louis has watched more porn than he should have for age seventeen).

Harry's bobbing his head faster now, sucking harder and fuck, it feels so good. The hand that isn't on Louis' dick is cupping and fondling his balls and Louis has his head thrown back, can't stop the sounds that are escaping from between his lips.

He knows he could come just like this, but he doesn't want to. Not today.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Louis takes a hand and tangles it up in Harry's long waves, gently pulling him back and off. He looks up at Louis, slightly confused. "What's wrong?" He asks.

"N-n-nothing wrong," Louis manages between breaths. "I just...wanna do something."

Harry nods eagerly and gets to his feet, kissing Louis once again. Louis can taste himself on Harry's tongue as he deepens the kiss, gently pushing Harry backwards. He steps out of his shorts, leaving them on the floor as he continues to kiss Harry, directing their bodies towards the showers. He pins the taller boy against the tiled wall and murmurs, "Been wanting this since you walked into the gym this morning."

He reaches to the side and turns the water on. It pours down from the showerhead like a fine rain, still hot from when their teammates had showered earlier. Louis places a kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth and says, "Could you turn around, Haz?"

To no surprise, Harry complies, resting his hands and forehead against the tile. "What did you have in mind?" he asks, body shivering, but it's not from the water.

"You'll see," is Louis' answer as he places a quick kiss between Harry's shoulder blades. Then he kneels down and pulls off Harry's socks and knee pads, throwing them aside to a dry corner of the shower area. He stands, and darts off back to his duffle bag in the locker room, opening a small pocket on the inside and grabbing a small tube of lube (just in case the water from the shower isn't enough).

What? Louis is nothing if not prepared.

He returns to find Harry with a hand inside his shorts, palming himself. Louis comes up to stand behind the other boy, reaching around and gently clasping his hand on Harry's wrist. Then he pulls Harry's hand out and places it back on the wall.

"No hands, Haz."

A moan slips out of Harry's mouth, low and needy. "Lou, fuck..."

There's a moment where Louis contemplates teasing Harry as badly as Harry teased him, but he decides he's not _that_ cruel. Louis presses himself against Harry and slides those fucking sinfully short shorts down his legs. He places his other hand on the curve of Harry's ass, gently moving it down to the back of his thigh, which he massages gently for a moment.

Harry finally relaxes under his touch, so Louis steps back, takes his own dick in his hand and pumps it a few times until it's fully hard, and then he twists the cap off the lube and squeezes it out onto his hand. Then, he takes the hand with the lube and slides it between Harry's thighs.

Harry sucks in his breath, his back arching, but he doesn't shy away from Louis' hand. Louis makes sure to generously cover the inside of each of Harry's thighs, and then he retracts his hand and applies more lube to his cock, slicking it up.

"Harry," he says, "I need you to keep your legs together. Maybe cross your ankles?"

Again, Harry does as directed, and then he glances over his shoulder at Louis, and his eyes are even glassier than before, pupils blown wide with want, and his cheeks are redder, too. "Louis, please..." he moans.

With a brief nod of his head, Louis places his hands on Harry's hips, and then carefully lines up and slides his cock between Harry's thighs. It's not as tight as actually being inside the other boy, but the sensation is still incredible. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and then Louis starts to thrust, pulling out and pushing in.

Harry's completely collapsed against the wall, leaning on it for support, and his whole body is shaking, and he's moaning Louis' name over and over and over...

Louis quickens the speed of his thrusts, watches as his cock moves between Harry's perfect thighs, feels how the other boy is clenching them together, trying to make it an even tighter fit.

Fuck, Louis thinks he might love Harry.

He rubs his hands up and down Harry's sides, running them across his stomach and up his chest and thumbing over Harry's nipples before he pinches one, taking it and rolling it between his fingers. Harry squirms at that, thrusting back against Louis, and from there they fumble for a brief moment as they figure out a pace: Harry pushing back as Louis pushes in, and the sensation grows stronger, better... Louis can feel that familiar heat building in his gut, can feel it slowly starting to spread, to travel up his spine.

He's not going to last much longer.

Harry is still moaning out his name, a chorus of "Lou" and "fuck" and "please" and "more" and Louis is all too happy to oblige.

Once again - and maybe he's just so caught up in the feeling that he forgot - Harry moves a hand down to take hold of his own cock and start tugging. Louis stops thrusting immediately, his cock buried between Harry's thighs.

"Harry," he says, sounded very much out of breath, "no hands. Want you to come just from this." To make his point, he slides his cock until it's almost free of Harry's thighs.

"I...I d-don't know if I—"

"You _can_ ," Louis answers before placing a kiss at the bottom of Harry's spine. "I know you can."

Harry's shaking even more. But he places his hand back on the wet tile, and looks back over his shoulder at Louis once more. He doesn't have to say anything for Louis to know exactly what he wants—what he needs—so he resumes fucking into Harry's thighs, doubling his efforts.

He doesn't takes his eyes off of Harry's, refuses to break contact.

Harry's falling apart under him, his accompanying thrusts growing more sporadic, his thighs loosening just the slightest bit as he edges closer and closer to his orgasm. Louis doesn't let it deter him though. He takes one hand and, without stopping his thrusts, gently runs a finger down between Harry's arsecheeks and circles it around his hole.

That's all it takes. Harry comes untouched, shooting out onto the wall of the shower and his own stomach. Louis fucks him through the orgasm, finally wrapping his hand around the other boy's cock and tugging gently as come spills over his fingers.

A few more thrusts later and Louis is coming as well, between Harry's thighs and onto his balls. He slumps over on Harry's back, completely spent, and then Harry's legs give out and together they slide to the floor of the shower. The water continues to fall, washing away much of their mess.

Louis can't help but kiss Harry again.

 

 

They're more than a little late meeting up with the rest of the team, but neither really cares. And if they both happen to order vanilla milkshakes and dissolve into a fit of giggles well, it's a punchline to a joke that is theirs, and theirs alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos or comments, if you'd like. I enjoy feedback, whether it be joyous raving or constructive criticism.
> 
> I'm @slytherinlouis on twitter (no capital i's in there anywhere!!), feel free to take any comments you have to me there, if you want.
> 
> Thanks for reading this mess.
> 
> \---  
> UPDATE: I guess it _is_ actually the first dodgeball au, so I'd just like to thank everyone for being so lovely and I'm so glad you're enjoying it. I wasnt expecting this to get much attention outside of my friends and perhaps followers on twitter, so, yeah. Thank you!
> 
> ((also i'm so sorry because smut is not my strongest area when it comes to fic writing and before this i had never written or even read thigh fucking so i hope i didn't butcher it for those who have encountered it in other fics, etc.))


End file.
